


But It's Better If You Do

by sleepismyfriend



Series: The Woman in the Flower Shop [2]
Category: Doctor Who (1963), Doctor Who (2005), Sarah Jane Adventures
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-03
Updated: 2014-10-03
Packaged: 2018-02-19 17:17:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2396420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepismyfriend/pseuds/sleepismyfriend
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a disastrous dinner with Clara and Sarah, the TARDIS tries to make the Doctor make amends by sending him to Bannerman Road.</p>
            </blockquote>





	But It's Better If You Do

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Timing Is Everything](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2313620) by [sleepismyfriend](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepismyfriend/pseuds/sleepismyfriend). 



> A sequel of sorts. It bounced around for several days.

Having changed into the jacket with the red lining, the Doctor pulls the "parking brake," feeling the TARDIS seamless shift its way in and out of the Vortex. He's not in the mood for the whoosh, not in the mood for piloting really, but piloting is what he knows. Piloting can take him as close or as far away from where he wants, needs, probably should be.

The TARDIS flickers around him, soft blue-purple glows that grow in intensity, as he broods. The console monitor even moves towards him, blinking a locked-in familiar location that the Doctor ignores. 

"Alright, you've made your point. Got it," he says, knocking the side of his curly grey head. "I should never go anywhere angry. Check."

More glows, more blinks, and more flickers. 

"What do you want from me?" He takes a step back, holding out his arms, and rotating around. His eyes focus on the ceiling. "You want me to keep them here until the end of my time, or the end of yours? We'll end up a tomb before long. How is that fair?" 

The lights of the console room are cut, surrounding the Doctor in darkness.

"Way to completely dodge an important conversation," the Doctor says, as the monitor once again shifts towards him. The location shown before hasn't changed, and the TARDIS goes one further, lighting the outer edges of the console ramp towards the exit. He descends down the ramp. "You better hope Mr Smith doesn't find me another type-40 to commandeer, or you will be on the curb with the rubbish bins."

As the Doctor steps into a familiar yet darkened attic, the TARDIS doors shut behind him. He hears a lock click into place.

"And that is what I get for turning the parking brakes off," the Doctor says, taking a seat on the steps right below the TARDIS. He looks towards the darkened supercomputer in front of him before sighing. "I'm too old for this."

Several moments pass before the Doctor rises. He heads down the stairs, all the way to the first floor. He steps into the darkened living room to see two bodies sleeping at opposite ends of the same sofa, a light blue afghan covering them. For almost sixteen, Sarah's daughter is as petite as Clara. Her body is half on her stomach on the outside of the sofa while Clara remains tucked straight on the inside. 

Memories of tucking others in flash through his mind, and the Doctor moves, cursing his ability to remember soft fuzzy things when he isn't trying. His hands adjust the afghan, making sure they are as covered as possible. His lips form a small smirk, as Sky shifts, and a skinny leg pops out from under the covers. He pushes it back onto the sofa.

He leaves the living room.

His fingers touch the dark wood bannister, as he remains at the base of the stairs. Sarah's bedroom is on the next floor, and its been a millennia and a half since he had considered this particular boundary a problem.

"Coming to bed, Doctor?" Sarah's sleepy tones travel towards him, and he looks up, her sleepy form standing at the top of the stairs in a light pink robe. He doesn't say anything, but heads up after her. 

He follows her down the hall, as she rubs at her eyes. 

"I knew you'd come back," she says, pushing past her bedroom door. The covers on her bed are pulled back, and she takes a seat in the space she more than likely just vacated. He remains close to the door.

"You knew nothing," he says, as she shrugs. "I could have been halfway between here and 2349. Good year, that one."

"Except you're not in 2349. You're standing in my bedroom in 2014 being argumentative. Being badly argumentative at that."

"I did pull the brake. So you know—" The Doctor's hands made a wide mushroom cloudlike gesture, accompanied by a terrible-sounding vvorp through his lips. "Wouldn't be noticed. How did you know I was here, anyway?" 

Sarah pulls an odd-shaped key from her night table, and holds it up. It's the colour of those silly glow-in-the-dark adhesive stars that tiny children find fascinating. The Doctor recognizes it as one of his older TARDIS keys.

"Bioluminescent paint and synthetic huon particles," she says. 

"Synthetic huon particles? That's—quite clever, actually."

"Clever is forgetting to fix the creaky stairs. You're lucky I didn't grab the wooden bat from under my bed." She sets the key back on the night table, and then takes a hard look at him. "I'll assume you're here for Clara." 

"Not exactly. The TARDIS kicked me out," he says, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Albeit a bit more forceful than usual."

Sarah's eyebrow lifts, and instead of sighing like he expects, her expression forms a straight one. "Good for her."

"Good for her? I've been evicted like some tramp, and you think that's a good thing? She's a semi-permanent fixture in your attic until further notice."

"I think you've been with her for so long, you've taken her for granted, and she's feeling unappreciated. A feeling I'm rather familiar with when it comes to you," she says. Her sigh then appears. "I wouldn't worry though. She's safe with Mr Smith. And, it's not as if I'll throw you out because you couldn't manage a simple meal."

"Who says that was simple? And that I'll stay here?" He watches, as she sheds her robe, and prepares to lie back down. She reaches for the covers, pulling them up and over her legs. She then shifts to her other side, putting her back to the Doctor.

"Doctor, you have two choices. Either join me, or find somewhere else to sleep," she says, closing her eyes. The hesitation the Doctor felt at the bottom of the stairs resurfaces, as he moves to the foot of her bed. 

"And that wouldn't bother you? Me sleeping in the same bed, I mean."

"We've shared one before," she says, her head turning towards him, as her eye cracks open. 

"We were different people then."

"Hardly."

"We had no room to physically be anywhere else but next to one another." 

"Doctor—" Sarah sits up. "Whatever is making you tick counter clockwise this go round, just tell me what it is."

"You're rushing the process."

"No, I'm trying my best to be understanding, which is something Clara has said you desperately need. So, please, humour me." Her eyes soften, and the Doctor exhales. He removes his coat, setting it to the side before stepping out of his shoes. 

Sarah watches, as he comes around to the right side of the bed. She settles back down against her pillow, as the Doctor lies down on top of her covers. They're face to face.

"I know about Danny." With him in much closer proximity, Sarah's voice is steady, but considerably softer. "You're not making it easy for her."

"Easy died on Skaro with you and the imbecile," he says, closing his eyes. "Not in Shoreditch with a PE teacher."

"Your last two faces didn't seem to think so. You loved having Amy and Rory in the TARDIS, and before that Donna and Martha. Rose and Mickey."

His eyes open.

"And, I'm no longer them. I no longer have a chin the width of a stop sign or sideburns that stop short of my sandshoes," he says, his voice softening. "A fact no one seems to appreciate."

"Maybe because you haven't given us any reason to." Her hand touches his cheek before she guesses that human contact probably isn't a good idea this go around, and lets her hand fall between them.

"We were in the same place once," he says, his tone shifting in a way Sarah hasn't heard yet with this particular face. "All thirteen in the same moment, and I didn't have time to process it until it was gone. What would you do if you could meet a copy of yourself from every phase you had ever been through in life, including what you thought was going to be your last?" 

"I don't know."

"Exactly. There are all these faces out there, all these versions of me travelling with who knows what, and I don't know how to put it all in perspective."

"You've lived an extraordinarily long time, Doctor. Who says you have to put it in perspective? Can't you be in the moment?"

"Possibly not." He watches each blink of her eyes growing slower than the last. "Sarah?"

"Hmm?"

"Never mind," he says. As her breathing evens, he allows his thumb one touch across the curve of her right cheek before closing his eyes.

\--

The living room is still cast in moonlight, but Clara wakes, feeling the slight chill of October seep into the living room. She leaves the blue afghan with Sky, who pulls the afghan closer, as Clara walks towards the front door. The door's cracked open, and as she pushes it with her fingertips, the Doctor sits on the stoop.

"Hey," she says, leaning her weight against the doorframe. 

"You're up early," he says.

"I'm up early most mornings," she says, pulling the door closed behind her. She then plops down next to him. "Teacher skills."

"Fair enough," he says. 

"Couldn't sleep?" She pulls her knees close to her, resting her elbows on them, as he shrugs.

"Sarah needed her rest." He looks to the sky. "And, I like sunrises."

"So, you've been here a bit then? Spoken to Sarah Jane?" Clara picks at her fingers, a rather nervous tick she picked up somewhere along the way. The look the Doctor gives says more than anything he could of said. "Oh, I see."

"You see nothing."

"I see a lot of things. I'm very insightful that way." Clara's little hmph doesn't go unnoticed. "I think you have unfinished business."

"Sarah and I—" The Doctor pauses. "Are complicated."

"Uncomplicated it then. I've got time," Clara says. 

The Doctor sighs.

"I don't think you've successfully processed the meaning of the word 'complicated', and I don't exactly have the patience to break down the historical intricacies of Sir Thomas Elyot's rudimentary dictionary. Your curiosity will have to wait."

"Mmkay." She settles her head on his shoulder, curling her arm through and then around his. He tenses more than he should, but less than when she's hugged him. "I'll give you until after breakfast."

"What's after breakfast?" 

"After breakfast is when you'll march upstairs, and start demanding that the TARDIS cooperate with your unequivocal bullheadedness. I'd very much like to hear about you and Sarah Jane right before you upset your ship, and she goes tearing off into the cosmos without her impetuous pilot."

"Did it ever occur to you that you are overdramatic?"

"When it comes to the TARDIS? Never. On a good day, she's only slightly more temperamental than you." Clara lifts her head, and uncurls her arm. She looks to the sky. "Sunrise is still quite a ways away, and we could both use some more sleep."

She stands.

"I don't need sleep." He watches her roll her eyes, as both hands go to her hips. 

"Why?"

"Because I don't. I'll sleep when I'm dead."

"No, no, you will not." Clara rocks back and forth on her feet. "You will go upstairs, find an available space whether it is a bed, the floor, or even the bathtub, and close your eyes."

"I was sleeping next to Sarah—" The Doctor says, almost _blurting_ if Clara is reading his tone of voice right. "But when I opened my eyes—"

"When you opened your eyes, you found yourself in a position you did not quite expect, and fled out here for absolution rather than give yourself one brief reprieve with a person you care for." A smirk appears at one corner of Clara's mouth, as the Doctor looks away. "Complicated doesn't really even touch the iceberg of feelings you're carrying."

"Feelings are like memories. They come and go at a moment's notice." He snaps his fingers. 

"And stupidity is something that can't be cured. So c'mon, up you go." She motions, to which he doesn't budge, and then she stamps her foot. "C'mon—Don't make me use my teacher voice this early."

"Fine, alright, alright. I'm coming." The Doctor acquiesces, standing up, and waiting, as Clara reenters the house. He follows behind.

"Make sure you close the door properly this time." She rubs up and down her arms, as he does what he is told. "The house is drafty enough as it is."

"I underestimated your friendship with Sarah." As he faces her, his jaw starts to jut out at the unfairness of not knowing, but then he remembers that it's probably best not to let anymore of that particular mindset show. 

"And I should have told you. I'm sorry about that. Good night, Doctor."

"Good night, Clara." He watches her walk back into the living room, and hears her cursing softly at the sight of Sky. He smirks before heading up the stairs.

\--

When Clara opens her eyes again, the youngest Smith is gone from the sofa, allowing her to finally stretch out. Instead, the eldest Smith stands in front of her fully dressed, holding out a large red mug of steaming coffee.

"Hiya," Clara says, rubbing her eyes, as she shifts upward. "What time is it?" 

"Quarter past eight. Sky's already headed off, and you looked like a little longer wouldn't hurt."

"That girl is a terrible bed partner." Clara accepts the coffee with both hands, hovering it towards her lips, as Sarah laughs. "Seriously, when she comes of proper age, I shudder to think of the injuries she'll inflict on her significant other while unconscious."

"Hopefully, that thought isn't as close as I think it is." Sarah sits. 

"Where's the Doctor?" Clara takes another sip of coffee. "I told him to find an available space, and get some rest."

"Yes, about that—" Sarah stands. "Follow me, please."

Curious, Clara sets the mug down, and follows Sarah out of the living room and up the stairs. Sarah stops in front of her bathroom, and opens the door. The bathroom curtain has been pulled back, revealing a fully clothed Doctor sleeping on his back in the bathtub, his neck resting on the porcelain bathtub edge.

"You see, this is what I found this morning when I went to use the loo. You can imagine my reaction."

"Oh dear God. Is that an owlie in his arms?" Clara's hand goes over her mouth. She wants to laugh, the laugh building in her stomach in layers upon layers until it bursts. She's going to milk this moment for the rest of the Doctor's lives.

"Yes—yes it is," Sarah says, sighing.


End file.
